


Hunter Becomes The Hunted

by danceswithhamsters01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Language, Gen, death by angry big cat, mauling by an animal, the HOF has had it with your bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: A small drabble that demanded to be written after I posted a reddit prompt pair. The Warden decides to leave a message to the people hunting her while she's trying to get home to her beloved.





	Hunter Becomes The Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation from the prompts found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16656778

They’d been following the trail for weeks. The footprints and paw prints had vanished last week. The only thing that egged the group on was that they could sense their quarry. The bitch was out there, somewhere.

“Jenkins, we been out here for weeks. I know it’s important to get our mark ‘n all, but y’see… the men are gettin’ sick of this. Runnin’ through the countryside with nothin’ t’ show for it. Why don’t we head back t’ base, get more help? Maybe grab a mage--”

Jenkins, the Senior Warden sent with the search party, scowled and made the rest of the sentence die on his subordinate’s tongue.

“We do not,” he paused to spit, “need any of those Maker-damned mages holding us back. We’re tracking one now, ya daft idjit! Bad enough the bitch is a mage, she’s a murderous traitor! Commander says we bring her in, so we’re going to bring her in!”

He scowled over the terrain. They were a day’s march from Perendale, at most. They’d been tracking the traitor mage since Weisshaupt. Now they were in sodding Nevarra! The people of her homeland called her the “Hero of Ferelden” but one look at the woman made him question what she’d done to earn that title. No, the only impressive things that Jenkins had noticed were the 37 Wardens she’d murdered during her escape and the sodding goose-chase she had them on now.

They made camp once the sun started to set. There were six of them. Four were napping in their tents while Harborg, the newest Warden in the group and the one who whined the most, stood watch. Jenkins went roaming in search of game, quiver on his back and bow in hand. He had a tasty looking hart in his sights when his he felt a disturbance. The taint in his blood was telling him another tainted being was close, extremely close.

He looked around. It couldn’t be any of his men, there were back at camp, more than half a mile away. This dull sensation in his mind said that the other taint-bearer was mere feet away.

A deep, throaty growl came from behind him. His head throbbed. Whatever had the taint was the same thing that made that noise. The last thing that Senior Warden Jenkins saw was a massive black cat with silver eyes snarl and leap for his throat.

Harborg and the others found their commanding officer’s remains soon after sunrise. Whatever had gotten him had torn his throat out. Large paw prints were all over the scene, probably feline. But what struck the Wardens most was a note on their commander’s corpse, held in place by a knife stabbed into his gut. With shaking hands, Harborg read it aloud to his comrades.

“Gentlemen,

Our little chase has been fun, but it must come to an end now. I will be blunt. Leave me alone and I will let you live. Decline my generous offer and you’ll find yourselves like this man.

Love and kisses,

Warden-Commander Arainai of Ferelden.

PS- Please bathe, you lot smell terrible.”


End file.
